Ghost x Lights
by Nayru Elric
Summary: When the Phantom Troupe's leader was declared dead, Kurapika lost his will to live. Have the shades of his past come to torment or comfort him in his hour of need? One shot.


The soles of my shoes scrape silently across concrete as I patter down this empty street. A sensation of abhorrence wells inside of me at the thought of what I possess, – immeasurable, – urging me to regurgitate my last meal, but my mind and body no longer have the strength to impel the urge.

Gurgling with my every step, the glass tubes clink inside, prolonged and echoing within the void of my mind. I can hear the eyes of someone I knew a lifetime ago bobbing against the cylindrical sides. The preciousness of the box I carry is beyond compare, though it weighs down on my hands, burning me where it makes contact with my chest and palms.

I cannot gauge the progress I've made from the auction house, nor do I pay attention to the movement of my feet as I continue down this deserted street. The distance to my destination is irrelevant in this eternal night.

There is no longer a reason for me to trek forth, no purpose to guide me in my path. The band of murderers known as the Phantom Troupe have ceased to exist in this world. I saw for myself their bodies drenched in blood and strewn across the outer courtyard and walls of Yorknew's Cemetery Building. Confirmed dead countless times, Mafia soldiers had been crawling all over the place, spoken of doing despicable things to their families and acquaintances to pay back for all those they had killed...

All this time, the only thing that's kept me alive is the thought of avenging my clan... the thought of granting reprisal to those I loved: innocents, members of my _family_, who were savagely tortured and beheaded by those damned Spiders on command of their leader – ordered our deaths for the eyes we bear, to sell them for money.

Emptiness threatened to overtake me that day. When I'd heard of the Kurta Clan's fate, the emotion I'd felt had been similar to this: the same emptiness had enveloped me. Except from that emptiness had come the foolish hope I could do something about it. And from that foolish hope, I gained an unquenchable rage – the rage that has driven me the past five years.

With everything I loved stolen from me, my unyielding rage is the only thing that's kept me unfaltering through these long years of searching, waiting, and preparation. If it weren't for that rage, I would have given up long ago. Countless times, I've feared my ultimate enemy to be untouchable – feared I'd die the moment the Troupe set their sights on me, no different than my brethren.

I vowed to bring those responsible for the subversion of my life to justice. I vowed not to rest until they walked on this earth no more. Death wrought upon the Spiders and their leader is what I've pined for all this time, so I had never even considered the possibility of someone else annihilating them before me...

With everyone I love gone, – all I'd known – everything I'd worked toward became meaningless. The only thing I could do was devote myself to ensuring their lives and deaths would not be in vain, that my clan would not go unrecognized and forgotten for what tragedy befell them. Those conditions are what has motivated me every second of every day of my life since they were taken from me...

...For what purpose am I supposed to live now...?

The lights of the city fade behind me as I keep forward. With every click of the glass tubes, and every scuff of my shoes against the sidewalk, the eyes gurgle in the liquid they are suspended. My surroundings have become smaller in scale, no longer sky-scraping towers on all sides. Lower buildings surround me, trees as well. The only lampposts are sparse and dim, guiding me like ghost lights through black night. The very air is stagnant here, as if I'm walking through a dream – or a nightmare.

I haven't felt this calm since... _When was it...? _my inward voice inquires despairingly, searching for an answer.

There is none.

I have locked the memories of my past deep within my mind; only reminiscences that will incite my wrath seep through. Sadness for my dead brethren is not emotional baggage I ever intended to keep, as it only hinders me in my quest for vengeance.

Even when I have nothing to lose, I find myself clinging to the wall I've emplaced in my mind to seal away my blissful past. The memory banks of my childhood are locked tightly with my chains, unbreakable by design.

And now, with the object of my hatred dead, – with everyone I love gone, – I have no emotion left to feel: no sadness nor hatred. If I did, I would still have an incentive to live...

Another appears before me on the edge of my sight.

"Bastard," he curses in a grumble. "You think you can just walk away?"

Keeping my head down, I continue to trudge forward despite the aggressive stance and raised tone of the newcomer's voice. What he's saying matters little. The only thing I'm sure of is the weight of the box in my arms, blazing against my chest and palms, the gurgles of the liquid inside, the clink of the tubes home to the last thing I have to hold dear.

"Stop!" he commands when I make no reaction. A pistol is pulled out of the inside pocket of his suit. "I'll blow your head off!" The squawking man isn't apt to stepping aside.

_It's that bastard from the auction, _my outward senses tell me. Finally something other than emptiness springs forth in my gut at the next clink of the tubes: a feeling of revulsion, pulsing hot as magma through the veins in my chest and limbs, every nerve in my body. I begin to tremble.

"Move," I say.

Furiously, he cocks his pistol, keeping the point at me. "DON'T BE –!"

I lift my gaze.

I removed my contacts back at the auction house. The shear intensity of my glare stops him dead in his tracks.

"Just stop," I say again, tone indifferent, focused more on the ground. If I look him in the face, there's no telling what I'll do. My voice lowers to a raspy whisper, shaky as I try to contain the red-hot rage coursing violently through my body at his accusatory ignorance. "I don't care who I kill right now." I direct my eyes of flaming scarlet a little higher, causing him to jolt, so he knows I mean it when I add, "_Even if it's you."_

I walk by him without another word.

* * *

><p>After hearing Neon's squeals of delight at having the eyes, I am snapped out of my initial petrified state. Melody suggested I get some rest, but I know that's impossible. Instead I make my way to the rooftop of the hospital where I dial Gon's number. He'd asked me for information regarding the Phantom Troupe so he could capture or defeat them for the promised Mafia reward.<p>

With their leader dead, there is no longer any information of use to give.

The phone picks up. "Hello? Kurapika?" his eager voice comes through.

"Ah." Knowing whom I'm speaking to, I struggle to piece together the right words. "You said you wanted to stop the Troupe, right?" I ask, monotonous – so he won't know where my true mind lies. "That won't be necessary now." A chilly breeze from the city below stirs the hair around my face, softly jingling the red jewel dangling from my left ear. My traditional Kurta attire flaps around me as I say aloud, "The Spider is dead," which solidifies the emptiness I feel.

Gon gasps in surprise. "What do you mean? Kurapika?!"

Slowly, I lower the phone from my face and hang up. I'm in no mood to talk about it, and definitely not to someone like Gon.

A ferocious wave of zephyrs gusts at me from all sides, freezing my hair to the roots, tearing through my clothes to nip at my raw skin. It's as if I'm not here at all, how the wind blows through me, empty as I am...

Neon's cries of joy echo in my mind, rewinding and replaying over and over again.

_"They're so beautiful...!" _she'd exclaimed, holding the glass tubes of the ever-glowing pair of scarlet eyes high to see them reflect in the ceiling light.

_What kind of beauty is worth the deaths of innocent lives? _I wonder, staring at the empty pavement of the streets hundreds of feet below.

Somewhere in the chained prison of my mind, an image of my parents gets through. Their spirits pass before my eyes, taking life as they linger just off the edge of the hospital rooftop. Still in the pristine forms that I best remember them, their voices are lulling to me as they call out my name, drawing me into a hypnotized state. They beckon me forward with words sweet as poison, gesturing with their hands, inviting me to join them...

I could do it.

The edge is so close.

I can end the Kurta bloodline for sure, lay waste to the last accursed pair of scarlet eyes worth more than the life I've been given. My legs itch to bring me to them, trembling excitedly at the thought as I lean ever-so-slightly forward.

But no.

The world will remain ugly. My death won't change anything. Another Phantom Troupe will be bred to pillage, murder, and defile lives on whim.

Thirty-six other pairs of scarlet eyes are floating around the world, forever being sold, collected, and resold for millions of Jenny. In many cases _billions_.

The eyes of my people shouldn't be purchased only to be admired for a few hours, then set upon some shelf until the next sale. The cycle will repeat forever.

Those eyes are all that's left of my clan. They deserve rest. I am the only one who can pay respects to the Kurta, being the only survivor. What I can recall of them from memory are all that's left of them, as well as their scarlet eyes...

_"We'll enjoy the outside world together...!"_

Just like that, my wall is broken. I'm reminded why I locked my memories away.

My best friend, Pairo, he... he was the reason I wanted to venture into the outside world so much to begin with. Those six weeks I was gone searching for a healer who could return his eyesight and fix his legs... I caught word of what happened to my home.

Pairo's faith in me... his smile as I left that day... my anger when we were knocked down, insulted by those who'd helped us, then called us agents of the devil the moment they saw my scarlet eyes... All of it... was for naught.

_How naïve I was, foolish enough to believe people like us could live comfortably among people in normal society without being feared, _speaks my mind, my stare unmoving from the sidewalk below. The memories of my clan belong to another lifetime.

In a way, perhaps all that's happened is my fault. If I hadn't lost my temper and allowed those villagers to see my eye color in my lust to see the outside world, word of our existence would not have rebounded. After our near-extinction a hundred years ago, we had faded out of the world's radar, no longer hunted for the scarlet hue of our eyes. At that point in time, our existence had probably been believed to be nothing more than pure legend. Until I lost control and attacked that group of thugs who insulted Pairo's condition... then the Phantom Troupe most likely heard the rumors.

I have been forced to live not only with my rage toward the Troupe, but my own rage and guilt as well.

How stupid I was, allowing my emotions to get the better of me, allowing my own ambition to dictate my behavior, be the cause of the destruction of so many, all those I care for, like my clan... and like my friends.

Best as possible, I've created the necessary mental blockages to ensure the same that happened to Pairo and my clan will not happen to Gon, Killua, and Leorio. I can't allow myself to have needless attachments to those who will only get in the way of the completion of my goal. I won't allow them to get trapped in the same kind of world I now live in.

I guess it doesn't matter anymore. With the Spiders dead, I've been robbed of all purpose, robbed of all the rage that's kept me isolated all this time...

The brilliant crystalline light of the moon streaks behind the grey clouds overhead, bringing me back to the present. My body has been frozen in place for a time close to an eternity, my clothes frozen like a mold cast around my body.

_I should go inside,_ I realize, turning toward the door back into the hospital. I can barely feel my arms and legs, so numbed from the icy winds of the cold night. However I barely take notice.

I go down the stairs to the lobby of the hospital, knowing the remainder of the Nostrade security guard have returned to the hotel room we were originally posted by this time.

_I'd better sleep like Melody suggested. Since I'm meeting up with Gon this coming afternoon, I can't let him see me this way._

_Same with Killua and Leorio..._

* * *

><p>My mind drifts into a deep sleep the moment my head hits my pillow. The shades of my past sedate me as they drag me away from the world of the conscious...<p>

_It's the clan elder that appears before me first in the fluffy white realm of my dreams. Stroking his grey beard, he chuckles, looking upon my younger self._

_I race toward him, smile on my face. "Pops!" I call out, coming to a halt when two more appear: a young man with short black hair, his arms wrapped around a young blonde woman with soft brown eyes. "Mom! Dad!" I cry out, running to them with my arms open. "I've missed you so much! You wouldn't believe everything that's happened –!"_

_Just before I reach them, the white realm shivers into black; the figures of my parents and the elder disappear like sand in the wind. Confused, I look around the area, trying to understand what's going on. A voice startles me from behind._

_"Kurapika, is that really you?"_

_"Pairo?!" I spin around, blond hair falling around my face as I do. He's exactly as I left him on that day, young and disabled. His glassy eyes prob the area I stand._

_He laughs. "Wow, you up and became a Hunter while I've been gone! I never would have guessed!"_

_I nod, somewhat sheepish as I lift one hand to scratch the back of my head. "Y-yeah, I did."_

_"So then, Kurapika... have you had some great adventures?"_

_My gaze drops to the transparent black floor beneath our feet. Reality comes rushing back to me in this dream world, and I can hardly call what occurred after the clan's death an "adventure" in good faith._

_"You promised me you would," Pairo says, his voice harsh. "You promised me you'd have lots of adventures. You promised you'd tell me all about them once you returned."_

_When I peer up at his face, the red jewel of my earring hits my cheek. Pairo is no longer smiling. His expression is solemn. Now much taller in comparison, I am my true age. My blue laced with gold Kurta garments give me a sense of professionalism in comparison to the red outfit Pairo wears, the same he wore in our childhood. This tugs at the chains of isolation I've emplaced around my heart, realizing the age gap that separates us – among other things. I step forward. I want to go to him. "Pairo, I –"_

_"But you didn't come back," he interrupts. "I never heard about your adventures in the outside world because I never saw you again."_

_The hurt in his voice breaks my heart, but all I can do is stutter an incoherent response. "P-Pairo... I didn't... I wouldn't... you know I wouldn't...!"_

_"You never told me about your journeys because while you were out having an adventure, I was back at the village. While we were being tortured and beheaded for our scarlet eyes, you were out filling your heart's ambition for an adventure."_

_Lurching forward again, I shout, "Pairo, please! I didn't know what would happen while I was gone! I didn't know I'd never see you again! You know I would have never left you if I knew –!"_

_"Oh really? Do I?" he asks inimically, tilting his head backward. "Your lack of control when it comes to your temper brought doom upon all of us. It's _your fault_ the Phantom Troupe heard of our existence. It's _your fault_ they found us. And you weren't even around to take the fall for your actions."_

_His declaration resounds in this empty black space we stand. _Your fault, your fault...

_"It's_ your fault _we're dead."_

_I bow my head, biting my lip. I clench my fists until the Nen rings on my right hand cut deeply into my skin. Blood pools into my palm, dripping off of my fingers. "I know that," I mumble, my voice shaking. "I think about it every day. Every day... I _hate_ myself for it. You think I don't?" Raising my head, the chains of my right hand clink as I fly it to my chest. "The only thing I've allowed myself to feel is rage. Rage so I can avenge you. You, and everyone in our clan! I've devoted myself to this kind of life so I can bring you justice! So I can destroy the evil that took your lives and restore balance through natural order!"_

_Pairo says calmly, "No you didn't. You haven't chosen this path for any righteous belief you pretend to claim. You chose it so you could free yourself from guilt. So you can free yourself of blame."_

_My breath cuts short as I stare at him, paralyzing me in place. "N-no that's... that's not true –!"_

_"Am I wrong?" Pairo inquires smoothly, stretching a hand outward. "Becoming a Hunter was only the first step. So now that the Spider is dead, you have no way of redeeming yourself. You're no better than a child begging for forgiveness. You don't care enough to risk your life for us. If possible, you would have run away to live your life free from the Kurta Clan, free to live the rest of your days without coming back to us or thinking about us ever again. That's why you always wanted to go to the outside world, isn't it? Because you found us boring and wanted to get away from that dull atmosphere?"_

_"P-Pairo, please, that's not –" I beg for forgiveness, which only angers him further._

_"Just admit it already!" he yells shrilly, overriding me. "You don't really care! You're only doing this for the same reason you worked so hard to find a doctor for me! It was your fault I became that way to begin with! You're only doing it for yourself! You're only doing it to clear your guilty conscience!"_

_I can't think of a feasible retort. Maybe he's right about me, and the only reason I've felt so strongly all these years was so I could free myself from my own guilt. To provide retribution to those I loved and lost, yes, but mainly so I could live free from blame and live the thrilling life of a Hunter – like D. Hunter in the book we used to read as kids._

_I release the fingers of my shaking fists, relaxing my muscles, and speak gently. "Pairo. I know it doesn't mean much now, but... I'm sorry."_

_Pairo stares, dumbfounded._

_"Maybe you're right," I say, "and everything up until now has just been me begging for forgiveness. I am just a child seeking revenge for what was taken away from me. Even so... if the difference I make is little, – no matter what reason, – I'll make sure no one ever has to endure the same pain." Placing a hand over my heart, I look Pairo fully in the face. "Even if I'm paying back for the rest of my life, I promise to never let your spirits vanish without peace or name."_

_Pairo stands with his cloudy eyes fixed upon me for another moment, astounded, until he relaxes too. Gradually, he closes his eyes, and smiles at me tearfully. "You better keep your promise this time, Kurapika."_

_I muster up a small grin in return and nod. "Even if I die trying, I won't rest until I've brought every last criminal who dared speak against our clan to justice. I've staked my very life on that."_

_As the dark dream world blows away, I think I hear Pairo's last whisper: "But don't forget to live for yourself too..."_

* * *

><p>Grasses of vibrant green greet me as I dodder onto the park field, face diverted toward the ground. Couples and families have laid out their picnic blankets all about the area, laughing merrily as they eat together. I receive many sideways glances from my reserved demeanor and obsolete clothing, but it's nothing I'm not used to.<p>

I spot them about thirty feet away: the pale, white-haired Killua, Gon sitting across from him in his green outfit, hair a spiky black. There's a vast array of steaming-hot junk foods between them – burgers, fries, hot dogs, chicken wings, ice cream, soda, donuts, pies, and pizzas. They're scarfing the food down like it'll disappear.

Gon sees me almost immediately, spitting pepperoni on Killua's face as he calls out my name. "Kurapika!" He jumps up, trotting promptly forward, stopping in front of me. "This is great!"

His perpetually bright expression and energetic tone catch me off guard. "Huh?" I breathe in surprise.

He explains, "The Spiders are dead, so you can finally focus on your main goal." The optimistic spark in his eyes pores into me. "You have to find the eyes of your people."

I gawk at him, amazed in some way. "Gon..."

He nods. "Yep! If there's anything we can to do help –"

Before Gon can finish, Killua comes from behind, taking him by the shoulders and smashing a cream pie into his face. The assassin gives a sly grin and a snicker as white pie cream slides down Gon's cheeks.

"Hey, you –!" Gon screams, taking the pan off his face and throwing it back at Killua, who runs out of the way.

"You did it first!" Killua defends, referring to the pepperoni on his face. He raises both hands to his head, wiggling his fingers tauntingly. "I was getting revenge~!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Gon retorts.

"You did it deliberately!" Killua counters assuredly.

I can't help the small smile that breaks out across my face at their childish banter. _It's been too long._

Killua grabs another cream pie from their pile on the ground, jumping high above Gon when he attempts to tackle him. Midair, Killua thrusts the other pie in Gon's face, smirking evilly.

Prepared to separate them, I step forward, but the bubbly feeling in my chest stops me. My shoulders curve upward and my chin falls forward, and as I chuckle at their childishness, my face lifts into a genuine beam.

_I remember now – why I vowed to rid this world of evil, why I wanted so badly to see the outside world and become a Hunter, leaving behind everyone I cared for... so I could protect precious friends like these._


End file.
